


Killswitch

by Dconslut



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alien Culture, Civil War, F/M, Love, M/M, Other, Robot Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1315780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dconslut/pseuds/Dconslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the start of the great war between Autobot and Decepticon, the last, best Prime is found in an unwitting Iaconian archivist named Orion Pax. But what if Orion Pax survives a horrific procedure that usually killed all other Matrix bearers? How would it affect him to see another version of himself on the battlefield?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: *sweats*
> 
> June 06 2016 - Temporary Hiatus  
> Yes, I still have plans to finish this fic, I am a huge piece of shit and my life is so busy right now. But I'm def gonna finish it. I'm sorry!!

The rapid fire click-tap, tap-tap-click was the only sound to be heard from this terminal at the end of the hallway. The corridors of the ship looked like the interior of a backstrut. Multiple fibre optics, power cables and fuel leads formed a thick conduit on the ceiling of the arched hallway that spanned around the ship. Perpendicular formations arched downward from the main conduit and from the floor panels, snaked out to all the rooms behind the central hallways. It was all burnished metal and black lacquer with the occasional cerulean glow every time the Nemesis’ engine pulsed. The bass vibration and pressure change in the atmoshpere was imperceptible to most of the crew, what with their multiple layers of armoured plating.

The Archivist at the terminal had no such armoured plating. His damaged frame couldn’t support it, so he looked mostly like he did when the war with the Senate had begun. Though there was one thing the Lord of all Decepticons would not abide; and that was anyone among their ranks looking anything like a Prime.

Orion Pax’s paint had been stripped away, the bright primary colour against a silver backdrop no longer a representation of his former caste, but the insignia of Megatron’s toughest and most hated foe; Optimus Prime.

It had been the Senate’s doing. Long before Megatron first sewed the seeds of civil unrest, there had been much of it already. The Senate and the Councillors of Cybertron had long hidden their atrocities from greater public knowledge, and in their secrecy, they were monstrous. Overpopulation, segregation, crime, drug abuse, prostitution, slave labour. And borne from all that bloated rot was Kaon, and pit-fighting, and civil unrest, and Megatron. He brought excitement to the ring, he brought chaos to the system and hope to his Kaonites. But one could not rule with force alone, and that was where a meek Archivist from the Iacon Hall of Records came in.

Some mechs were too used up, too beaten down, too far deep in the depths of their despair to be of any use to Megatron. Orion Pax would counsel them, make a place for them to recover. Under his watch, and often with his own hands, Orion had built hostels for them to recover, temples for them to pray, built conference rooms for them to discuss. Megatron inspired fear and encouraged malice, but it was Orion Pax who truly won their sparks. Between the two of them, Kaon had been in the palms of their hands in a matter of decades.

They were originally co-workers, co-conspirators. At one point during the rioting, Orion had been co-habitating with Megatron. When they became lovers it was a surprise for both of them. There were many incompatibilities to be worked through, and cultural differences more often than not caused them to put their ideas of companionship aside. But they never strayed far from each other. Not even when Megatron stormed the Senate.

Despite many interpersonal issues, their common goal remained the same. Get to the Senate, get to the Councillors. And the two of them would do what they’d always done. Megatron would inspire the strong and petrify the rest. And then he would storm out, disgusted and angry. And then Orion would deliver his side and assuage the sparks and minds of those who did not like Megatron or the new order he was proposing. The end goal was essentially the same; Megatron and Orion simply had different ways of approaching it. Whether or not the Councillors saw that was not their worry. Distracted by the threat of Megatron’s fury and eased by the seemingly meek Orion Pax, pertinent issues were delivered directly to the Councillors. They would know soon if their message was heard or if they’d simply been taken in by their theatrics.

And the bastard Senators who always had something up their coattails derailed the meeting completely when instead of discussing civillian matters, they nudged the goal of the meeting toward a different end altogether.

Orion Pax, the new bearer of the Matrix of Leadership.

It was a terrible turn of events for Megatron and Orion, whose original goal had simply been to bring pertinent matters to the Councillors. Being Senators who were closely tied to Government and Religious matters, of course their duties would also include being on the look out for a new Bearer. Both feared they’d set something entirely different into motion. And they couldn’t have been more right.

In a quick succession of tragic events, certain Senators were murdered, Councillors went missing and base charges took out a quarter of the Iacon Hall of Records. Media stories flew out of control. In a matter of hours there was chaos. Orion and Megatron had left the Senate, afraid their arrival might be blamed for the attack. They were right, of course, and the retribution, when it came, was fast and vicious and it went on and on, as scores of the Senate’s personal guards chased Megatron and his Archivist out of Iacon, across the borders and into the Badlands, where the fighting took on an entirely different flavour.

There, Megatron’s Kaonites met the Autobot forces in a vicious wall of cover fire, meant to give Megatron and Orion time to escape. Time and time again the Gladiator was maimed as he tried to protect Orion, keep him out of the line of fire. Orion, who couldn’t even stomach a Kaon pit-fight, had no fight instinct whatsoever. He’d become a terrible liability and he knew it, as he watched, helplessly, as incindiary rounds and ricochet bullets tore at Megatron. Then, a terrific blast of white light and a high frequency percussive blastwave blinded optics, disrupted balancing hydraulics and ruptured audio receptors. Megatron fell and fell. In the fray, the Archivist was lost.

Find Orion Pax! You leave this field dead or with him in tow!

That was the only order Megatron gave as his Kaonites battled the Autobots for the return of their Archivist.

Hidden below the debris of the fallen Hall of Records was a reinforced, doomsday military bunker where they’d hidden the Archivist. The surgery was fast and efficient and for Orion Pax, brutal. When he woke, his audio receptors were completely shot. He was lying on a table, but without his ability to balance he couldn’t even flop around on it. To his horror, his spark chamber was lying open, having been sawed into and pulled up. Inner most energon leaked everywhere. His spark spun before his very optics. The awareness brought pain and panic and more pain and more panic. He couldn’t hear his own screaming.

The Matrix of Leadership had only ever been illustrated on intricate temple walls. It was always shown resting on pillows, being polished by gorgeous slaves, being venerated by naked Priests. The real thing was now suspended directly above him, its handles pulling the orb wide and revealing the dark matter that pulsed thickly inside it. It stared at Orion and into Orion with malicious, perverted interest. And Orion was powerless to stop the suctioning force that sampled his innermost energon and the power from his spark. It was torture beyond words and meaning, the very, very worst event any Autobot, who had been trained since their inception to keep their spark private, could endure.

Orion had not even dared to hope. When Megatron’s forces broke through the reinforced temple, Orion’s spark had guttered out, having had its lifeblood mostly taken in by the terrible relic of conquering Primes.

Orion’s retrieval had been ugly…. Scores of Iaconian and Kaonite frames lay everywhere in varying states of deactivation. Those who were on the wrong side were left to die. Those who were on the right side and couldn’t be saved were given a quick death. Every single one of them asked, do we have him? ‘Yes.’ Came Megatron’s answer before his sword arm deployed a blade into a guttering spark chamber, severing the pain circuits and allowing innermost energon to spill free.

From that point forward, Megatron was finished with things like forgiveness, and patience, and civility, and discussions and blasted politics. His trusted advisor lay in stasis, his frame ruptured and broken, his spark guttering out and starving for innermost energon he himself couldn’t provide, because they hadn’t sparkshared often enough, cultural differences, damn them. Damn them.

Oh, but the Senators. Those Senators had to be admired for their viciousness, their awful cruelty, and the depths of their hatred. It was proof positive of how the Matrix worked, part of a great secret that had to be sacrificed in order to set the war in motion. When Optimus Prime came to the battle field looking like a souped-up version of Orion Pax, it was known then that the delicate parts of a mech was scraped clean and allowed to merge with the Matrix. To lose Orion Pax and at the same time have to deal with this bloated abomination was almost too much for Megatron to bear.

In a strange act of … whatever it was, Optimus Prime spared Megatron’s life when the Gladiator had thrown himself at the Prime. They were alone on the borders of Kaon. Optimus Prime had come out here, seeking parley. Megatron found out later that Optimus Prime had sent him requests via official channels often. He hadn’t known, because by then he’d already amassed a huge force of the cruelest Kaonites he could find, as well as Vosians whose beautiful city had been reduced to ash. Three of the best Seekers would become his closest Officers, but one of them had become a bane very, very early on. It was by this Trine-leader’s order that the Prime’s messages had not been delivered. Megatron hadn’t recharged in whole solar cycles, and he was starved of energon and reason. But Optimus Prime knew, and understood. ‘You are not the only one who cares, Megatron.’ He’d said, and dropped 4 vials of glowing blue fluid in front of Megatron, and walked away.

The vials were of innermost energon and the close enough to the original bearer that Orion’s wounded spark fed on them hungrily. Very, very gradually, Orion Pax recovered, though he was never fully recovered again. From that point on during the war he stayed the hell away from any battle fields or political discussions. Instead, Orion returned to duties he assigned for himself. He kept meticulous records and he took care of Megatron’s Vehicons, the most looked down on in his army. He’d done this for centuries while Megatron chased the Autobots all over known and unknown space. Megatron was pure chaos and Orion couldn’t help but try to order it. It was how they functioned together; a tense balancing act, and neither dared approach the tipping point.

When Orion recovered, Megatron had declared the Autobots enemies. The officers agreed, but the lower ranking soldiers vehemently agreed, and even took to self-mutilation of the spark chamber as their own sign of loyatly; to remind themselves of whom they belonged to and what had happened to their beloved Advisor. Megatron was beyond pleased, and underwent the procedure himself, and eventually, his Officers underwent it, too. The Decepticon insignia was cut from one’s spark chamber in a symbolic re-enactment of a horrible crime committed against the most noble of Decepticons. And so it was for a millennia.

The fighting was a constant thing. The Nemesis was now orbiting this planet’s dark side, having had its stores packed with newly mined energon. Megatron had returned from deep space travel, bringing with him a terrible substance, and no one was sure how he planned to use it. It was only certain it would be atrocious.

And Orion Pax remained hidden away, tending to his duties, in the protective, and sometimes oppressive shadow of his Warlord, Megatron.

It was a tough day to stay focused, for Orion Pax. For Megatron too, if his current moodiness was anything to go by. This was a significant day for both of them. Centuries turned to millennia, suns died out, black holes swallowed solar systems, species rose and fell with the ebb and flow of tides and still, after all this time, neither of them could forget this turn in seasons, this single day in their intertwined lives when their very sanity rested on a pin-point.

This was the anniversary of the birth of Optimus Prime and the near-death of Orion Pax. The beginning of Megatron’s madness and Orion Pax’s fears. The start of a war that raged on and on and on.


	2. Killswitch, Ch 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh man, the timing / pacing of this chapter feels hella off every time I read it, so apologies in advance. Before I post the rest of it I'll get me a beta reader. : >

Killswitch, Pt 2  
Major AU

 

The Meeting Room was a communications and presentations hub, one of many on the Nemesis. This room was the biggest and the closest to Megatron's seat at the front of the ship. The officers had gathered quickly. Starscream looked especially sullen today. He was flanked by Thundercracker and Skywarp who stuck close by, and chatted nonchallantly over Starscream's moodiness. Soundwave was more or less silent as Shockwave took the opportunity to advise him on what updates his lab required. Knockout and Breakdown were definitely the livlier chatters in the room. When Megatron entered, followed by Dreadwing and Skyquake, the chatter died down to respectful silence as each sat down. No one really noticed the addition of an extra chair until Orion, lithe and quick as ever, was sitting in it.   
The Advisor didn't say a word to anyone. Only tapped at his datapad and tried to look calm. 

"Our search for the Autobot base remains a second priority to finding and securing energon. I expect the shift in roles to be seamless. Skyquake and Dreadwing will remain onboard as my personal guard and you are to give them your co-operation." Megatron's optics were piercing as they settled on the officers in the room. Orion noted only Starscream really showed his dismay. Thundercracker and Skywarp were disconcerted as well, but they were far more contained. 

"We know they are receiving assistance from the inhabitants on this planet. I assumed they must have been desperate to accept help from these vermin," Megatron sneered as he said the word. "However, it has put them on even footing with our forces. For such meager military forces they have managed to assist the Autobots just enough to make them a nuisance. With our reduction in grunt forces as well, this has affected our ability to mine in secrecy. So we will adopt more discreet measures." 

Reduction in grunt forces? Orion made a note to ask about that later. As far as Vehicon deaths went, each loss was felt keenly by the soldiers, but a number that warranted mention had to be unusually high. 

"In three days, I will attack the humans' electrical out-post. The reactor there will be put to good use in this ship's power core. Should I not be able to retrieve it, I expect you three to return with my energon stores in the mountains." 

"There are Vehicons for that." Starscream blurted, wings flickering in irritation. Skywarp elbowed him sharply.

Megatron's upper lip rose, a common show of fierce dislike. "I want flyers for this task, Starscream. If I wanted Vehicons, I'd have said so, though next time I'm issuing their orders I invite you partake." He sneered. 

It was his Lord's round-about way of saying Starscream could join the lower ranks for orders if he didn't like what he was hearing. Starscream, devious as ever, caught the meaning. Abruptly he stood up. 

"You want flyers for this mission, take those two!" Starscream snapped as he shoved himself forward. "This plan of yours is a waste of time. Who cares about a reactor, our energon core produces 10 times that amount!"

"An alternate power source like a reactor will delay the need to make such frequent stops for energon." Dreadwing said calmly, from Megatron's side. "With the humans assisting them, it's only a matter of time before our energon mines are discovered. The more infrequent our drops, the better for our cover." 

Orion peered at the dark blue seeker, mouth open in slight surprise. It was rare anyone got to see someone new halt Starscream's tirade before it began. The Chief of Military Operations was completely livid. Orion lost interest in taking notes and simply waited to see how it would play out. 

"On your part," Megatron growled, "the mission will require competence, speed and stealth. Make no mistake, I will have what's mine. And with my -armed guard- " Megatron's optics settled approvingly over the Seeker twins, which made their wings splay upward, "the Autobots will get what's coming to them. Nothing will deny me that pleasure, Starscream." 

Whatever vicious retort that hot little processor was coming up with was stopped short when Soundwave stepped forward and activated a holoform of a geographic region on earth's surface. It was covered in dense forest and mountainous as well, its peak tipped with white. 

"I expect the rest of you to be onboard and able to assist with whatever the mission requires. You're dismissed." 

Orion didn't get up from his seat, as he had something he wanted to discuss with Megatron. Starscream, however, was the first to leave. He shouldered his way roughly through Thundercracker and Skywarp and ignored Dreadwing and Skyquake on his way out. Orion wasn't entirely familiar with Vosian culture but he knew a snub when he saw it. The other flyers were unfazed, even when Starscream's trine-mates followed him out, more or less doing the same thing. 

As Soundwave passed, Megatron stopped him with just a mention of his name. They discussed something quietly while Breakdown and Knockout left to their assigned tasks. "I wonder what the librarian wants." Knockout leered at Orion. He tried to look non-plussed. Being "of no great value" that the Decepticons could see, Orion was often subjected to ridicule, though it was never anything beyond a snide comment now and again. Easy to ignore. Soundwave stalked out, silent as ever. 

"I have not seen you in a meeting for some time, Orion." Megatron said when they were alone. His voice was low and considering. Orion could hear the curiosity in it. "What brings you do the table?" 

"I was curious about the new acquisitions." He answered. 

"I noticed your 'curiosity.'" He said the worth through his teeth. "His military record is on par with what I expect from my officers." 

"I'm not judging." Orion said. "He could certainly set an example, but I don't think Starscream will appreciate him much." 

"He doesn't appreciate anything much. Not even me." Megatron turned scornful optics at the door. The Warlord took one of the seats and made himself comfortable, powerful legs splayed slightly apart, pelvic armour pushed a little forward and arms on the rests. The pose looked a little provactive. Orion felt himself shy away from the invitation, though he still met the crimson optics with his own. 

"You mentioned a reduction in grunt forces." Orion said, glancing at the datapad. 

"Vehicon grounders."

"What's happened to them? Your last match I counted 14 losses." Orion scrolled through the datapad again, checking his numbers. When Megatron didn't answer he looked up, and met Megatron's gaze. It startled him. 

"Interesting that you call it a 'match' when it's really just some Autobots getting in our way." 

"Megatron, please." Orion said, looking at him in that half-lidded way, the gesture looking far more endearing than it had right to be. "What happened?" 

"Airachnid happened." Megatron relented, looking away. "The Insecticon gets bored while being on lock down. It's enough to keep her occupied." 

"What's enough? Is she harming the Vehicons?" 

"She kills them for sport." Megatron answered with a sigh, though it was unclear if he was directing it at Airachnid or Orion. 

The Advisor sat up straighter, alarm making his limbs tight. "How many." He said.

Megatron took a moment to think out the answer. "Ten or twenty a week." 

"Ten or... Good grief, Megatron! She'll have your ground forces wiped out in a few years. You have to stop her." 

"I'm aware, Orion." Megatron snapped, his large frame leaning forward, suddenly filling Orion's entire field of vision. The smaller Decepticon put his hands up in a supplicating manner. "That's what the new acquisitions are for. And that's why she's not allowed on any excursions." 

Orion stood up from the table and picked up the datapad. "They didn't tell me. If I'd known I wouldn't have allowed any of them near her." 

"And then she'd act out against the officers." 

"They can defend themselves. The Vehicons can't. If you'll excuse me." Orion turned to leave, but Megatron reached out suddenly and grabbed Orion's arm. Orion came stumbling into Megatron's lap, pulled flush against sharp plating that always, always ran hot. He tried to balance himself by putting his hand on a solid surface, but it landed high on Megatron's inner thigh and the heat from -that- region of armour was considerably hotter. Orion didn't have time to be embarrassed. "Stop..." He said, the word coming out startled and breathless. 

"Why do you scrounge around in the dirt with them. They know their fate and they can never disobey me." Megatron growled into Orion's audio receptor. The smaller Decepticon shuddered. "Unlike you." A hot glossa flicked against Orion's jaw, and he was awfully tempted to --- 

\--- the door to the meeting room whined as primary locks refused to disengage. The interruption was enough to drive them apart. Bitterness settled into Orion's tank. If it were Starscream here, no one would dare venture back to the Meeting Room until a few hours at passed. His spark spun painfully in his chassis. "We'll discuss a change in your duty roster later." Megatron said as he sat back. Orion backed away, optics bright with seething fury. Megatron met his glare with a smirk. Orion stumbled over the broken pieces of his datapad. He hadn't even heard when it slipped from his hands. He picked up the pieces and headed for the door, keyed in the unlock code and stepped aside. 

It was Dreadwing who'd come back to have a word with Megatron. The dark blue Seeker stepped into the room and Orion quickly slipped out. Dreadwing glanced at him, then back at Megatron. "I apologize for interrupting you." 

Megatron rose from the seat and waved in a gesture of dismissal. "What is it, Dreadwing." 

"You mentioned a problem you wanted fixed?"

"Ahh. I certainly did."

***

It was the day before the big mission, and there were a few changes aboard the ship to accomodate it. Upon finding out about Airachnid's hobby, Orion had made damn sure no more Vehicons were around her. After watching her for a few hours he realized that she was an ambush predator. It was common for Vehicons to take shortcuts when they needed to get somewhere quickly, and that's where she tended to lay her traps. Orion was no predator of course, but he'd lived aboard a ship of the toughest, meanest Decepticons and he was smart. He wasn't outfitted with weapons, so the best way he found to win a fight was to avoid it altogether. To warn the Vehicons not to go there, Orion spray painted tiny X's about 100 yards away from a trap. The number of Vehicons going missing aboard the ship dropped dramatically. 

Starscream had more or less accepted his role in this mission, with some careful maneuvering by his trine-mates. Breakdown, unfortunately, was going along and Orion could tell he was going to bear the fall-out if anything went wrong. Knockout was tense after being threatened by Megatron for daring to squeeze one last racing excursion in before a mission. Soundwave was keeping tabs on everything both in and out of the ship. Shockwave wasn't around much, most likely holed up in his lab. Skyquake and Dreadwing had spent the last 3 days sparring, which Megatron himself had witnessed. Orion had hoped to talk to Dreadwing personally, but his plans were stopped short after a particularly brutal sparring match, in which Megatron had sealed the doors shut for the three of them. Orion had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Conflicted desires and envy burned in his circuits. 

He was keying in the latest maintenance reports for the Nemesis in agitation, his nimble fingers flying over the input board. He was so busy with his work that when a pair of ice-cold, powerful, spindly fingers slipped around his neck from behind, he almost fainted. 

"Orion Pax, my dear. I haven't seen you around for ages." Airchanid said, her cultured words steady like a comrade's. "I was hoping I'd find you alone. You see, someone's spread a nasty rumour about me and I was wondering if -you-" a lethally tipped digit stroked the outer socket of Orion's eye, "had any clues as to who would do such a thing to me?" 

"Your theatrics are unnecessary with me, Airachnid." Orion managed calmly. He took his hands off the input board and turned to face the taller insecticon. "But if you feel you've been treated unfairly I invite you to speak. I'll fix what I can." 

Airachnid sneered as she took her hands off of Orion. She stalked across the room to the narrow archway that was, Orion realized to his immense concern, the only way out of this room. "Someone's told all the Vehicons I'm dangerous. No one brings me my energon anymore, and every time I'm in the halls they scurry. Makes a girl feel lonely." 

"Please." Orion said, disgust clear on his face. "You were killing up to twenty a week."

The Insecticon's smile was terrifying. "Who told you that?" 

"I track every single Vehicon loss aboard the Nemesis. They're responsible for the functioning of the lower decks as well navigation and millions of other meaningless tasks you officers deem yourselves too good for." Orion's fury increased with his words, with the steady gleam in the spider-bot's grin. 

"I doubt Megatron cares for your efforts." Airachnid said, idly examining a clawed hand. The comment struck something deep in Orion's chassis and if it weren't for this infernal ... twisted creature blocking his escape, he might have had time to puzzle out why such a stupid comment should have any effect on him. "Advisor." She laughed. "You sound more like a maid." 

"Whatever I am, the duties I perform were assigned to me by Megatron." Orion said hotly. 

"You expect me to believe Megatron was concerned about his workers?"

"At the rate you going through them, it became a problem." Orion snapped. 

"I've seen his clone-type protoforms in storage. It's takes very little resources to make a Vehicon. Could it be you're the one with the problem?" Airachnid stepped forward in that smooth, predator's glide. 

Orion huffed angrily. Then, just as quickly, his anger turned to wariness as he backed away from the steadily approaching spider-bot. "Airachnid, don't be foolish. Megatron won't tolerate another loss of ---" 

"Of what?" Airachind shot in. "His house-keeper? I know who Megatron values." The insecticon stalked closer and closer. Orion's back met the input board as he tried in vain to shrink away. "If an officer stopped my activities I'd understand. But the grunt keeper of Megatron's canon fodder? Now what kind of Decepticon would I be if I let that little insult stand, hmm?" 

"A smart one." Orion said evenly. His optics were wide with fear and he barely kept the tremble out of his legs. Her laugh was long full.

"Let me tell you what you are to -me- Orion Pax." Airchanid's forelimbs raised high and clicked back, internal slinging cables pulled taut and ready to release toxin into his plating if they hit true. "You're dead."


	3. Killswitch, Ch 3

Killswitch, Pt 3  
Major AU

It had been a long day. Ratchet couldn't tell what was so exhausting about having a "day off" inside the silo with all the Autobots and the children. There had been movies, discussions, games... a LOT of games. Finally the little planet spun out of the direct light of the sun and it was time for the children to be sent home. 

Ratchet stood at his desk in blessed silence. He always knew he worked faster when it was quiet, and it was obvious in the way his hands moved over a set of tools with speed and precision. If his luck held out he could probably finish re-wiring a whole new set. However, a firm pair of hands settled on his shoulders. The medic ignored it at first, thinking Optimus was just offering a friendly touch. But when the rest of the Prime's frame pressed flushed against his, he knew better. And there it was; the purring engine, the roll of his hips, and the chin that rested on his shoulder. 

"Can I help you?" Ratchet asked casually. 

"I'm in terrible pain, Doctor." Optimus whispered into Ratchet's audial. Ugh, that was unbelievably arousing, to have Optimus whispering at him like that. 

"We don't have time." Ratchet said, a smile coasting on his lips. Optimus' hands slid around Ratchet's middle.

"Perhaps you could join me in a drive." He suggested, glossa flicking at the back of Ratchet's neck cables. The medic raised his hand to Optimus' face and stroked it. He turned in the Prime's embrace and kissed him. It honestly surprised him how his frame responded to the Prime's interest when he'd been too busy all day long to pay much attention to it. 

"I'd love to." Ratchet murmured. "But they'll be calling us soon, as we requested." Ratchet said between kisses. "But if you're quick for once, it shouln't matter. 

Optimus didn't have a chance to offer a sneaky reply. He was pleasantly distracted by the medic's sure lips on his and nimble fingers rubbing the seams of his chassis, coaxing the plates that covered his spark chamber to slide open. Optimus groaned and leaned back, enjoying the contact. "Working with you is difficult." He said, thrilling to Ratchet's touch. "You're distracting." 

"Me?" Ratchet asked as he flicked a glossa against Optimus' spark chamber. The Prime shuddered and held Ratchet tightly. "I'm just doing my work. You're the one with a filthy mind." Ratchet groaned as he felt Optimus buck and grind against him as he sucked on the edges of the exposed spark chamber. Optimus' hands found the latches on Ratchet's plating and pulled at them none to gently. The medic yielded, the plates sliding open with agonizing slowness. Optimus looked at the medic's spark with a hiss of satisfaction. Powerful arms pulled the medic close as they joined sparks. 

The ricochet of energy was intensely pleasurable for them as they kissed and ground against each other. In the silo, only the sounds of their panting and moaning could be heard, and the occasional crackle of charge as it crawled and arched across plating. It felt amazing, but it wasn't one of those deep spark merges that left two mechs incoherent for hours. It was quick, just a read of the other's energy, really. The confirmation of their union, the thrill of the attraction, the intense pleasure of the merge. Much, much too quick. 

When Optimus and Ratchet parted, their plating was slicked with condensation, allowing short bursts of eletricity to leap back and forth between them. During the time it took for the electricity to dissipate, they recovered themselves. Optimus Prime held Ratchet's face still as he kissed him, long and deep. Ratchet felt weak in his knees. 

"Join me for a drive." Optimus murmured again. 

"I will." Ratchet said, gently pushing Optimus away. His circuits were alive with charge, but it could wait until later. Optimus glanced over his shoulder at Ratchet and gave a nod and a smile. Ratchet took a moment to right himself as well, trying to look as non-challant as possible. They're moments together were incredibly rare, but not a day went by that the two didn't express some form of affection for each other. 

***

Several hours later, a call came through to the silo. Optimus activated it and stood in front of the screen, just behind Ratchet. "Go ahead, Bulkhead." 

::Could use your help out here, big rig. Bucket head's out here with Dreadwing and Skyquake. They're uprooting power generators. Arcee says she can see four of them.:: 

"Power generators? Considering how much energy it takes to run the Nemesis, not even 50 power generators would be worth the risk. What's Megatron playing at?" Ratchet said with concern. 

"Bridge me to their co-ordinates, Ratchet. I will have to see for myself." Optimus said. 

Twilight bathed the dark sky as Optimus walked through the groundbridge several yards away from his team. Arcee, Bee and Bulkhead were crouched behind a thick cluster of pine trees. In the canyon below them, Megatron and his seekers were like ants, toiling away. 

Optimus approached the team quietly. Bulkhead and Bee ducked a little to allow Optimus room to see what they were seeing. 

::Optimus, those are commercial grade power generators. My earlier assumption was incorrect. Generators that size could definitely boost a few of the Nemesis' systems. The ones not relying solely on energon for power.:: From the silo, Ratchet had his scanners locked onto the area where Optimus and his team were. ::I don't see 'con activity anywhere else.:: 

::Understood:: 

***

Megatron watched his two fliers quietly as their clawed hands dug through deep soil. They had disconnected and uprooted four of the massive generators so far, and were fixing to take a fifth. There was no digging equipment whatsoever. Only the light of a swirling groundbridge and the quiet toil of two seeker twins. 

"Take your time, Dreadwing." Megatron drawled, holding up his hand in a placating gesture. "I want them to come." He watched his seekers closely, taking his time in admiring their framework. He'd always had a thing for seekers, as was evident in his choice of berth partner over the vorns. It was just something in the way they were built; sleek angles and smooth curves, all pleasing to the optic and exciting to the touch. It was the high whine of their engines or the rush of liquified energon through their lines. And the quiver of their wings, whether he licked them or bit them. A pleasant warmth spread through Megatron's abdominal plates. He grinned wolfishly. It had become something of a game for him. Which of his seekers would he be rewarding after this mission?

Megatron heard the foot falls about an instant before his rival's voice echoed through the clearing. 

"Megatron!" Optimus approached through the tall pines, sword arms drawn. "I will not allow you to pilfer this planet's vital resources. Leave." 

Megatron grinned as he turned to face the Autobot leader. "I expected you here sooner." 

***

A Decepticon familiar with the subtle shifts in velocity and air pressure of the Nemesis could tell when it was high above the blue planets' surface or cruising close to the planet's core. It was in the pull of the planet's gravitational field that was always the tip off. On a frame without a lot of exoskeletal plating it was as easy as the optic could detect textures and colours. That was how Orion knew the Nemesis was touching ground on planet Earth. That was how he knew leaving the Nemesis would be the only way to escape the deadly predator at his back. 

Airachnid's venom was a terrible mix of metal and protoform dissolving liquid. It was a substance unique to her race and so far a cure had never really been developed for it. No cure he could get to now, anyway. 

"You've been such a -joy- to play with, Orion." Airachnid's smooth voice echoed somewhere in the dark hallway, somewhere above him. The Archivist scrambled to find a hiding spot. "Mmm, it's been a while since I've had to chase down my prey. Vehicons, Eradicons, they're all bred for slaughter. They must know it deep down in their coding. Some of them don't even try to fight me. But you, librarian, you value your life, don't you? It's in the way you skitter and squirm." 

Orion barely held back a high, frightened whine. His limbs were weak and it made him slow and awkward, not to mention the terrible burn of corroded metal on his back. No matter where he looked, there was no one around to help. Any of the grunts would have... he knew it in his spark. But there was no one! He was alone with this twisted predator who slashed pieces off his delicate plating for sport. And then he remembered... The mission to seize human technology was underway... Anyone who could help him was outside. 

The cargo bay was cavernous, fully stocked with equipment and tools of various sizes. Much of them were taller than Orion. He crawled forward and around as quietly as he could, trying not to jump and flee at the sound of skittering and scraping. Airachnid was in her element here; it was dark, they were alone and he was heavily injured. He had to get out of here. 

The cargo bay doors only ever opened at ground level on two occasions; one, when a worker keyed in the unlock code to the hydraulic control panels and two, when unauthorized access was occuring. The bay doors were huge, and as soon as it opened, the ground units would investigate immediately. Orion made it to the farthest point of the cargo bay, and hid beneath the control panel. In the dim light, he could see cables that connected to various switches and ports on the panel. One of the Vehicons made him memorize the sequence, everyday for several months until the pattern of movements had become engrained in his circuits. One day, Orion would thank that Vehicon in person. He reached toward the connectors on the cables and felt his fingers fall into the pattern immediately. The re-wiring took seconds, but in Orion's processor it felt like his digits were clumsy and slow. 

"Where are you, my little pet?" Airachnid's purr came from the side of the cargo bay as she crept about on her additional appendages. "I've had so much fun today I might lock you away in my habsuite. Though you might not survive the trip there." The spider-bot bent down and traced her her finger on a puddle of energon on the ground. She brought it to her lips and licked it off, smiled cruelly as her low-light photoreceptors mapped out Orion's frame in the dimlight. He was silent and quick, his nimble digits working at the wires of the cargo bay panel. 

The spider-bot crept up behind him, as silent as a shadow, and stood back on her hindlegs. Her two forelegs slinked back, springs tight with momentum, ready to strike. There was a crackle-pop as Orion did something with the panel, and two distinctly coloured fluids spilled from the cargo bay panel. The screen on the panel went black. Airachnid barely supressed a laugh. So much for calling for help. Her forelegs pitched forward.

Orion jumped back as the appendages skipped past his shoulder and embedded into the metal of the cargo bay panel. He watched in horror as more of his plating simply clattered from his frame, leaving more wires and more protoform exposed. He moved backwards away from the spider-bot and ducked as her foreleg whipped forward in a perfect arc that would have knocked his head clean off his shoulders. 

Airachnid advanced. Behind her, the fluids spilling from the panel wouldn't mix; they bubbled and smoked, forming an acidic blend that dripped through loose floor panels onto some wiring hidden below. 

"Please... I haven't done anything to you!" Orion pleaded, now backed against the other side of the wall. 

"It's nothing personal." The spider-bot winked, and then lunged. 

It was as though the entirety of his existence narrowed down to the sharpened point of Airachnid's venomous arms. There was a halo of light, superheated air and an outward push of pressure that slammed Airachnid into Orion. They were like that for a time, smashed together against the cargo bay door as another explosion blew out the pressure sensors and hydraulic gauges and the door was blown clean off its hinges. It was violent, it was chaotic, and in the mess Orion just barely managed to keep his wits about him. Airachnid recovered first, sinking her extra arms into the dirt for traction. Orion kept rolling with the momentum and ended up out of sight and covered in debris. 

"What the hell?" 

"We're being attacked!" 

"No, that was the ship. Go look." 

The Nemesis was docked near to an energon mine. The Trine and Breakdown rushed to the scene. Where Airachnid had gone, he didn't know. He only hoped one of his Vehicons would find him and bring him aboard for treatment. It was his last thought before he slipped away from consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *huffing noises*

Killswitch, pt 4  
Major AU

They were well into the thick of the action when Optimus decided Megatron wasn't entirely serious about this mission. It made more sense to him that Megatron was simply testing out how Skyquake and Dreadwing performed when on a mission together. They gave ground and took ground, but -something- seemed wrong. That sense of urgency and determination, that true viciousness and fury was missing. 

::Ratchet, expand your search for Decepticon activity. I have reason to believe that this is merely a distraction:: Optimus sent the communications order directly to Ratchet as he ducked close to his soldiers. 

Above a terrace, Megatron landed with an earth-shaking crash and transformed. He nodded at Dreadwing and Skyquake. In perfect unison their afterburners spat fire and air as it pushed them up and up. They didn't go far, only twisted around each other. One banked right and the other banked left, gathering momentum. Optimus recognized the maneuver instantly. They were preparing for their strongest airstrike. 

Arcee braced herself. "Optimus, what do we do?" Her voice was edged with alarm. Bee and Bulkhead were just as tense but staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

"Bulkhead and Bumble Bee, hold tight to the generators. Arcee, stay near to me." Optimus said, and took his position at the head of the team. He sent co-ordinates to Ratchet with an 'extreme urgency' tag to it, and then loaded his arm weaponry. The seekers swooped low, and bathed the land with their strongest laserfire. Optimus returned fire, his blasts coming slower and spaced farther apart than what the seekers were firing. This was going to be painful. 

::Ready!:: 

::Now, Ratchet! Now!::

A pool of light crackled to life behind Optimus Prime. Arcee, Bee and Bulkhead fell through the groundbridge that opened under their feet. Startled, but regaining themselves quickly, Bee and Bulkhead held tight to the middle generator. The other two were thumped to the ground gracelessly. Only Optimus remained. Through the groundbridge, Arcee called out to him. 

Above their helms, Optimus fell through the groundbridge, miraculously landing on his feet. Only a couple of blasts followed him through and hit him square in the chasses. He doubled over as the groundbridge swirled closed. The Prime's armour smoked where residual laser fire had damaged plating. There was a crack in his windshield. 

"What do you see on the scans, Ratchet?" Optimus said, his voice grave. 

\--Optimus, you're hurt.-- Bee said, his hand coming to rest on Optimus' arm. 

"We may have more urgent concerns, Bumble Bee." He said, and patted Bee's hand. "I believe Megatron's attack was a distraction. If that is the case, we must move out again in due time. Ratchet?"

"I see it." Ratchet gasped, his hands flying expertly over the keyboard. "A massive energon spike on the next continent, some five miles wide. An explosion perhaps. With readings like this it must be an energon mine." 

"Whoa... Is that the Nemesis?" Bulkhead asked, putting a massive hand on Ratchet's shoulder, the other hand coming in to tap the (delicate) touchscreen. The medic intercepted the wrecker's hand and slapped it away saying, 'ep! But touched the spot on the screen that Bulkhead was pointing to. "Oh my word! You're right!" Ratchet exclaimed. 

Bulkhead made a sound. "Don't sound so surprised."

"That is our next destination. Groundbridge, Ratchet." Optimus took his place at the head of the team once more. Behind him, Arcee and Bumble Bee exchanged looks. 

"No rest for the wicked, as they say." Arcee smirked. Behind his battle mask, Bee made a pleased sound. 

***

::Master, there was an explosion originating from inside the Nemesis::

It was all the prompting Megatron needed to end his tryst with the Autobots. On his order, he made Dreadwing and Skyquake show him their combined power as they flew high, banked low and unleashed a grievous assault on the Autobots. It gave him a bit of pleasure to see the contained fury suddenly released. They lost two generators, the other three recovered by the Prime's team. No matter. His true prize had been back at one of his mines, but upon hearing about the team's failure, and at this point he wouldn't call an explosion aboard his place of refuge anything but, he was absolutely furious. 

The groundbridge crackled with energy, seeming to mimic the furious pulsing and firing of energon and processor instruction. Megatron chose to walk through, as if daring anything that got in his way to gaze upon him and be destroyed thusly. His seekers followed him through, their wings quivering with heat and the reflexive quiver of having recently been through some challenging aerial maneuvers. They were quiet and obedient, waiting intently for the next instruction. 

The Nemesis smoked through one of its cargo bay doors and all around, bits of energon rained from the sky. The grounders were working furiously to rebuild the doors with enough thickness so as not to cause a hull breach when next the Nemesis took to the atmosphere. Megatron's plating rattled with the deep growl building in his chassis. 

"Starscream! What is the meaning of this!" He roared. The grounders scattered. 

His Second in Command shook with worry. "My Lord, it was a cargo door malfunction! The grounders are responsible -- "

"Did you retrieve my energon, Starscream?" Megatron snapped, cutting off any explanation Starscream might have had. 

"We did, my Lord." Thundercracker stepped in. "I've investigated the explosion. It came from someone tampering with the door's control panel."

"Who was it?" 

"We're still investigating." 

Megatron growled. Then he turned to Skyquake and Dreadwing. "Fly above and notify me immediately if the Autobots arrive. Welcome them accordingly." The Decepticon was showered with flame and smoke as the fliers took off. He breathed in their scent, the fire of their engines momentarily calming him. He turned to face the chaos. 

Overall it didn't take the Decepticons long to find a rhythm in the chaos. Grounders cleared a space for larger units that ploughed through the dirt and sifted energon from soft earth soil. Refined energon was brought aboard first on wheel barrows, with Vehicons and Eradicons working jointly to get the useful stuff onto the ship and It was all brought aboard the Nemesis. Despite having Starscream hollering at his back, Breakdown was quick, and quite possibly happy, to be working closely with the Vehicons and Eradicons, rather than stand by and bear the brunt of Starscream's micromanagement. 

The thing that took the longest amount of time was the rebuilding of the doors. Megatron was about to become furious with the groudners until he saw the way they worked. They were quiet, efficient and if hadn't been watching them it would have appeared as if the cargo bay door was rebuilding itself piece by piece. It was a sight to behold, really, and one that calmed him down considerably. Perhaps this day would not be a total loss after all. 

::Our welcoming committee has arrived, Master. 40 yards away:: Dreadwing's comm came through to Megatron right away. 

::Engage them. You may return when the Nemesis is airborne.:: Megatron ordered. Then he gave his final order of the night. 

::Decepticons! Return to ship and blow the mine!::

***

Energon explosions were far, far deadlier than anything an incindiary device could produce. Namely because energon itself was such a volatile substance, the chain reaction caused a build up of heat and ambient energy that kept building on itself. Long after energon crystals had detonated they left behind a blast powder that often caused extra charge in neighbouring crystals, which left their own debris that only added to the heat and flame. Any explosion in a mine caused a rupture deep in the earth's crust that was so powerful, so devastating that human instruments meant to measure seizmic activity and the severity of air pressure systems would register such a blast. It was absolute, unchecked violent power that re-wrote landscapes, scarred the earth. 

The Autobots weren't at ground zero when the mine was detonated. They fought hard against the two fliers but they were devastatingly fast against the grounders. They were careful never to touch the surface as they swooped low and shot up again and again, dropping bombs, grenades and laser fire. Optimus took many more hits to his frame trying to deflect blasts to get his team closer to the mine. 

The Nemesis rising slowly off the ground made each Autobot pause. It rode on powerful downward air currents at a steady pace, looking like some warped, terrible creature awakening from the Pit. When the energon mine exploded, it rode the wave of heat and power with ease, taking higher and higher to the sky. The blast however, caught the Autobots on its outskirt and hurled them with terrific force into a terrace. There was nothing for Optimus to do for a few brief seconds except curl around Bee and Arcee, while Bulkhead locked an arm with his and tried to weather the blast. Debris crashed into them, nearly sent them hurtling away. 

However long the storm lasted, it was entirely too long. It didn't suddenly end, but petered off in intensity very, very gradually. The sound had not stopped echoing like a thunder blast in the sky when Optimus unlocked his arm with Bulkhead and turned aroudn to survey the damage. It was carnage absolute. Every tree was severed at the base, while huge swathes of dust and smoke pumped out of the earth. The Nemesis was far, far away by now, just a pin-prick in the sky. 

Arcee pushed herself out from beneath Optimus' cover, and circled around the group to stare at the aftermath. "Scrap. That's not even the biggest mine Megatron has control over." She shouted, her voice ringing clear in the valley. 

"So that -was- just a distraction for what they were recovering here." Bulkhead said as he got to his pedes with some difficulty. 

\--Fowler won't like this mess.-- Bee said angrily, and it was obvious he was more upset at his own failure than what had actually happened here. 

"No one likes it." Bulkhead agreed. "Bucket head's probably laughing his aft off right now." 

While the three Autobots groused, Optimus remained silent. His team's upset more or less reflected how he felt right now, but he felt that it wasn't necessary for him to add to their anger. Instead, he turned his face skyward. "Ratchet?"

"Med bay's prepped, Optimus." Ratchet commed back. "I'm sending a groundbridge." 

"Wait!" Arcee exclaimed. The Autobots turned to her, followed her intense stare into a pile of debris. It was far away and barely seen through the dust clouds. They couldn't see what she did, but Arcee was stuck on it. As was typica for the tiny two wheeler, she took off into the storm. 

"Arcee!" Optimus called out to the femme as she raced ahead and disappeared behind a pile of rock and a cloud of dust. "Wait here." Optimus ordered Bee and Bulkhead before they could take a step. He charged after Arcee, weaving and ducking around the small fires guttering out. He followed the two-wheeler's tracks for a while. ::Arcee, this ground is extremely unstable. Return at once.::

::I found someone. Over here, a few yards from your left:: Arcee commed back. The Prime sighed internally and followed the femme's direction, weapons drawn. As he moved forward his optics mapped out an escape route, should the valley cave in or another explosion marr the area again. 

Arcee was crouched over a Decepticon larger than herself. Slightly smaller than Bee's size perhaps. Optimus could see splashes of blue energon and the ruptured faction symbol. He was a mess... all around were cables and gears strewn about, and Optimus quietly marveled that this small Decepticon without a lot of exoskeletal plating could have been included in an energon mine explosion with his limbs still attached. Twisted and damaged almost beyond repair... but attached. 

"He was conscious a minute ago." Arcee said, her hands touching the Decepticon's face as she checked him over. "Don't know him. Do you?" Then, the two-wheeler moved away from Optimus' field of vision, and the shock he received at that moment was much more profound than the unnatural disaster he and his team just survived. 

"By Primus... " Optimus whispered as he stared at the broken and battered frame of the Decepticon Archivist, Orion Pax.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello I know nothing of chapter length and pacing, have a lovely day

Killswitch, Pt 5  
Major AU

***

Megatron stalked the halls of the Nemesis like a roaming predator. When he wasn't alone, his Vehicons toiled beneath the ledge Megatron walked on. Very few of them spared a glance in his direction, but their optics didn't linger for longer than it took to pick up a tool or turn to another partner. They worked in teams of 5 or 6; all units tightly regimented and unified. They were highly organized for being just a grunt unit, the lowest ranking and most expendable of his forces. But under Orion's watch, they'd become something more. Not just grunts, but the support network that kept the Nemesis in tip-top condition, ready to strike at a moment's notice. 

Yes, when Megatron stopped to look he could see Orion's influence in the way they moved with purpose and total focus. He wished the more unruly of his senior officers were so dedicated. They were gifted at their assigned roles, certainly. Soundwave was crafty and intelligent, and as obsessed with purpose and passion as Megatron was. Knockout, not so much. He did his job, but it was obvious what he'd rather be doing. Breakdown could only be asked for so much. His processors weren't nearly as fast as some of his Vehicons, but he knew his place and accepted his role gratefully. Shockwave exceeded all others in foresight and strategy, but was often too quick to retreat to safety than stay and win a battle. Unlike Megatron, who'd had to be dragged off the battle field, critically injured and still firing his canon. 

Hah, and of course there was Starscream, who was simultaneously everything he wanted and everything he didn't need. Stunningly intelligent, bold and vicious, many higher ranking Decepticons looked up to him, admired and respected him. And Megatron was no fool that Starscream had a few stowed away who would follow him if ever he decided to leave the Decepticons and form his own faction. Yes, Starscream was a bigger threat on his own than being trapped in a room with Autobots, no plating and no weapons. Frustratingly, he didn't just possess wit and weaponry; he also possessed sensuality. And my oh my did he ever know how to use it. It was impossible to refuse Starscream when he came slinking into his berth, optics dark red with want, wings quivering, plating aching for contact. Thundercracker and Skywarp were still loyal to him, however. They acted as a buffer against Starscream's grander schemes, either informing Megatron of what he planned to do next or outright sabotaging his efforts. Megatron rewarded them handsomely, often with his own frame. 

The arrival of Skyquake and Dreadwing brought its own set of intricate complications. Skyquake meshed well with the senior officers, and Megatron wasn't surprised to learn he and Skywarp were getting along well, even going so far as to exchange intimacies, as was common with the older, nobler Trines and Pairs back before the war. Dreadwing, however had to be watched carefully, and not just because he was private and controlled, thereby masking whatever intentions he possessed. 

Orion was interested in him. 

Usually when Megatron's advisor caught wind of a new recruit coming onboard he simply did some background research and prepared a room in the appropriate area of teh ship. He was thoughtful in that way, doing his best to ensure functional, comfortable accomodations. He tended to introduce himself once, leave some information and then disappear to the lower decks. This time, Megatron was told, Orion had been trying to meet privately with Dreadwing for a day or two, a plan foiled by Megatron's pettiness. There was no illicit tone in Soundwave's observations, but Megatron was not naive. However, as Orion wasn't a similar rank to one of his senior officers, it wasn't appropriate to corner the Advisor and demand answers. Professionally, it was foolish. What the hell did it matter what the steward did? It should have been beneath Megatron's notice. Personally....

Personally, Megatron was ready to put Dreadwing's head into the ship's energon resevoir. 

Megatron wasn't blind. He knew Starscream must have bragged and threatened and intimidated Orion until he was forced to stand aside. He wished Orion hadn't, but the Advisor wasn't one to cause a problem or fight for what he wanted, namely because he was too physically weak to challenge Starscream. And the little fool was just too proud to go begging for Megatron's protection. So they both suffered. 

Megatron growled low in his chassis when he thought of Orion's choice in lovers. Thundercracker had been the last one, and as far as he could tell, hadn't had a lover since. Orion had no confidence in his sensuality, so he tended to find mechs that matched his emotional needs. If ever the Archivist worked up the nerve to claim a place by Megatron's side, the Warlord would gladly accept. After all, they had history and there were countless times when Megatron yearned for the wise, patient counsel of a selfless mech, hungered for the company of a friend and lusted after one so pure. He tried to give Orion his space to love whom he chose, but deep down Megatron was as possessive as any dark and hungry predator had a right to be. He hadn't meant it all those years ago when he's broken Thundercracker's wings but Orion... Orion didn't belong to him, or the medic and he now didn't belong to Dreadwing. He would control himself as long as he could but by Primus... He owned what Orion was, just as surely as this meek, sweet Decepticon owned his spark. 

The Warlord had come full circle in his thoughts and in his pacing. He now stood a the hull of the Nemesis and peered at the planet. They always circled the planet's darkside, only venturing into the light when they required resources. He remembered looking out onto a terrace long, long ago. The finest high-grade, gentle caresses, guiding his consort into overload after overload; teaching Orion how to touch him and kiss him. And afterward, they stood on a terrace and looked out onto the glittering spires of Cybertron, foolish optimism in their sparks. Megatron's optics slid closed as he savoured the memory, a brief respite from the fight codes that were usually at the forefront of his processor. 

"My Lord?" 

Megatron's optics snapped open. "What is it." He said casually, his attention shifting immediately. 

"Orion Pax is no longer aboard the ship. And neither is Airachnid."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: uygh my hands

Killswitch pt 6  
Major AU

"Come on, that's weird for Optimus right? A Decepticon prisoner? I've been stationed on earth for two years, you guys longer, when's the last time he kept a Decepticon locked away in here?" Smokescreen asked as he followed the other Autobot through the hanger. It was quite a bit more spacious than the silo they were used to. 

\--Normally he wouldn't-- Bee's broken voice communicated in beeps, chirrs and whirrs of varying pitches and tones. Smokescreen learned quickly how to dechiper the other scout's words and he made a point of not laughing at the other anymore. Bee had outsmarted and out maneuvered him so many times on the field that he didn't dare crack those kinds of jokes. He'd schooled him good. --It's because of -who- he is. And as of right now he's considered an esteemed guest. Not a prisoner--

"He's a Decepticon, who cares who he is." Smokescreen huffed. "Did we capture Soundwave or Shockwave? Or even Starscream? No. -Those- guys are big threats." The junior scout said as he followed Bee onto a mechanical lift. It juttered under their combined weight as it began to follow a pulley cable system that swung the left down several levels. 

\--Considering how old he is and what he knows about Optimus, he could be pretty threatening-- Bee said patiently as he worked the lift. 

"I saw him. He's not that tough." Smokescreen said. 

\--You saw him?-- The lift quivered as Bee nearly forgot to keep pressing the down arrow on the panel.   
\--We were under strict orders to stay out of his way, Smokey--

"Aw come on. It was just a peek. Besides, he didn't see me. Got some stealth lessons from Mirage." Smokescreen puffed his chassis out, a proud gesture.

\--You've got to watch out for the senior team, Smokescreen-- He said, his other hand tracing Smokescreen's jaw and pulling him forward. He pressed a kiss on the other's mouth, the gesture very tender. --They're into hazing rituals and they prank a little hard--

"Oh?" Smokescreen asked and leaned in for another kiss. "They don't bother me." 

\--That's becuase they learned the hard way not to mess with -me- but they'll trip you up if you give them reason to. Just be careful around them, ok?-- He said. 

They walked out of the lift and deeper into the bunker. It was of impressive size and before the humans vacated the area, the cement floors with its painted laneways acted as guidelines for personnel getting from one area of the plant to another on motorized vehicles. Ugh, humans were adorable. 

"So who's at the meeting?" Smokescreen asked as he followed Bee closely. 

\--All the Autobots stationed on earth. You know who that means?--

Smokescreen made a face. "Hot Rod. Hate that guy. Ever since he got named the next Prime he acts like everyone should take orders from him." 

\--Not everyone.-- Bee grinned as he held up a garage door for Smokescreen. --Just you--

"Thanks for reminding me." Smokescreen said with a roll of his optics. "I still say that was a jank test. We totally need a rematch."

Bee laughed. --You know, you were very close to winning until you pulled that pleasure-bot nonsense-- 

"Hey, come on. That was an honest mistake. He kept talking about 'becoming one with his spark' and all that, I thought he was coming onto me." 

\--Are you kidding me right now? Optimus Prime, hitting on a green recruit like that? I still have yet to hear a good reason why you think 'join sparks with me' means 'open your panels.'--

"If Optimus Prime asked you to join sparks with him, wouldn't you pop your panels too?" 

Bee let out a sigh as he entered a meeting room just packed with Autobots. 

***

When the Autobots were situated in their seats, Optimus thanked them for arriving on such short notice, and got right down to brass tacks. While Optimus was excellent at reading other's moods, it was also his Autobots who could tell when Optimus was extremely concerned about something; and that was usually when he was quick with the pleasantries. 

"At 22:00 hours, earth time, my team and I were investigating Decepticon activity on this continent. Megatron, and his two recruits Dreadwing and Skyquake were attempting to commandeer human technology. We intercepted their activities, only to be alerted that the their true intent was at this location, here, some several hundred miles away." 

The 3d holograph morphed from one earth terrain grid to another. "We located another energon mine as the Decepticons suffered some technical setback. We were unable to determine their exact reason for the distraction. Due to interference from their new seekers, we were also unable to get closer to the mine. This turned out to be beneficial to us as were not close enough when Megatron gave the order to destroy the mine, thereby covering his escape." 

There was a derisive snort from one of the Wreckers at the table, and a slight chuckle from the rest of them. 

"We recovered a Decepticon after the attack. The Archivist, Orion Pax." There was a hush over the board room, then, each Autobot no doubt waiting to hear why that was significant. 

Optimus was solemn for a while as he prepared to give his speech. "Some of you do not understand the significance of this occurence, but to understand, you must know that many millenia ago, before the great war and before Cyberton's Golden Age, the Senators were responsible for voting in candidates to be a Bearer of the Matrix. As you know, it was considered a great and humbling honour. The Matrix is a very real connection to Primus, and all Primes that have gone before me are able to make their wisdom known to me. The process by which a candidate was chosen and the merging of the Matrix to the Bearer was kept in great secret until my inception.

"It is more accurate to say that... the process is the other way around. The Bearer is merged to the Matrix. That is... " Optimus had to pause as memories, not entirely his own, rolled to the surface with unpleasant accuracy. "Through invasive techniques, an Autobot's frame is pulled open along the central conduit, so that the spark chamber and spark can be exposed. And then the Autobot's spark and innermost energon is actually fed to the Matrix. When the first procedure is complete, the second procedure begins. The previous mech's frame is melted down, neural connectors, energon lines and hydraulics and all, and wired into a new frame that's best suited for the new Matrix Bearer. It was not a simple transformation as we all once thought it had been." Optimus didn't meet the optics of those at the table. 

What he was describing was horrific. The very worst thing an Autobot, a Cybertronian could endure. And yet... Optimus was standing there in front of everyone saying... it had happened to him. Horror mounted in every spark at the table. Hot Rod couldn't help but ask. "They cut you open, dig out your insides, then melt your frame?" His voice shook. He couldn't even joke about this atrocity.

"That's a blunt way of putting it, but yes." 

"Were you... awake when they did this?" Hot Rod queried. Optimus noticed the tilt in Ultra Magnus' shoulder, and guessed he must have been holding Hot Rod's arm for support.

"I was." Optimus said, and let the gravity of that statement set in. "For obvious reasons, the procedure was kept a secret. And it was my understanding that until very recently... " Optimus' optics settled on Hot Rod, who looked justifiably petrified, "there were no alternate methods of successfully completing the procedure. But such things change. However, I've gathered you all here today to explain the history of the Decepticon currently being held at this time. 

"Orion Pax, the Archivist, worked in the Iacon Hall of Records. He became acquainted with Megatron, then called Megatronus before the dissent into war. Together they got as far as the Councillors with their political agenda, but the Hall of Records was attacked on the eve of their hearing. Orion Pax was taken underground and made a Bearer of the Matrix. Usually, such a violent procedure damages a mech to the point where personality protocols have to be rewritten, usually by the Matrix itself. But during the procedure, Megatronus retaliated and rescued Orion Pax before his spark could be siphoned out by the Matrix. It was a decision I made a long time ago when trying to negotiate peace treaties with Megatron, but at the time I had offered him my own inner-most energon to save Orion Pax. I had not seen or heard of him since. We thought he was dead." 

"By Primus..." Prowl, who had been sitting here mostly quietly during the talk, practically vibrated with fury. Jazz was beside him, trying to restrain him, but the strategist promptly shook off the visored Autobot. "Split sparks. The botched procedure created a split spark!" He shouted. "You're trying to tell us that Orion Pax, a Decepticon, a Kaon sympathiser and one of Megatron's whores, shares a spark with OUR most sacred Autobot?!" 

Just as Optimus feared, that statement pretty much indicated why this was such a delicate matter. 

***

The meeting had gone to hell in a hand-basket, as Optimus had once heard Fowler say. Optimus recessed the meeting, leaving Ratchet and Jazz to calm the fury and insult that was Prowl and Mirage and everyone else of high nobility. It was always a high risk strategy to reveal his past. He knew certain Autobots looked at him as if he were a god, and he'd worked hard trying to prove that he was just a soldier, no matter what trinket he carried inside him. Still... a small part of him didn't want to lose the unwavering respect and general faith they had in him. He'd maintained the illusion that it was based on his personality, and not the relic fastened into his chassis. Yet finding out what he was and what Orion Pax was ... that could all change. 

Ratchet was too busy defending Optimus' honour, in typical sparkmate fashion. Prowl was beside himself with insult, saying he should have consulted first. He was excellent at stringing together theories and perfectly thought out situations where Optimus Prime's -other half- (and how Ratchet resented that phrase,) could be used against the Autobots. Prowl was thorough and efficient that way. Optimus suspected it was more Prowl's fury that such an important bit of information hadn't been entrusted to him first of all. But it was Prowl's style to keep secrets and this was something Optimus couldn't afford to keep to himself or even Ratchet. To keep them all safe, Optimus had to do away with his discomfort and fill them all in. 

Mirage, clever little noble that he was, hadn't made things any better when he mentioned the percentage of split sparks who were able to communicate over vast distances, even hyper space and deep space. Prowl had been quick to point out that the liklihood of Optimus being able to manage that kind of communication would likely draw power and attention from the single dedicated channel that was always open for the Matrix. 'Unless youv'e got something else to share with the group, Optimus!' He'd snapped. 

Hot Rod had to be excused and Optimus could tell Magnus longed to follow him out. Hot Rod wasn't the type who did well by himself. Not knowing how to react, Springer took Hot Rod's leaving as a chance to excuse himself. Optimus didn't miss the threatening look given to him by Magnus. The other Wreckers for the most part discussed the matter by themselves. Optimus only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. They were debating the religious significance of a manufactured Prime, and then decided that they still answered to Optimus Prime, and it didn't matter to them how he was made. Touching, in their own way. 

Bee and Smokescreen exchanged frantic messages via private comms. More than once, Smokescreen looked as if he appeared to stand up, say something, try to unify the crowd. Bee silenced him with stern looks. Probably something reasonable like don't get in the way of a religious debate. 

Bulkhead and Wheeljack too had their own conversation going. Optimus wasn't entirely surprised at the ferocity of their reactions, but it bothered him to no end. He preferred to forget about his rank and simply -be- with his Autobots, but at times like this, when his godhood was called forward... he had to endure it. He had to sit here and the head of the crowd and be bombarded by religious fervor. 

Finally, he'd had enough and excused himself. The shouting at his back crescendoed. 

Optimus Prime was alone in the bunker, loaned to the Autobots by Fowler, who allowed him to use the area provided they 'keep the party down.' He hadn't asked what Fowler meant, and upon having Ratchet investigate wall thickness and the how loud their voices had to be, he knew that the nearest human settlement wouldnt' hear their individual voices. So the Autobots were free to shout at each other in relative privacy. 

The Prime was a wreck at the moment. On one hand he felt as though he'd let his Autobots down, but on the other hand, this event was somethign that had been done -to- him, and to Orion Pax, and to Megatron as well. Whoever the Senators were to make such a decision and concoct such a procedure... ah, but the ancient texts always warned that to be a Bearer of the Matrix was to invite grievous pain. And to think there was no way out of that .... He must have scared poor Hot Rod something terrible. 

"They're quieter now, if you want to come back." It was Kup who'd come looking for him. 

"What did you do to them?" Optimus asked, very much looking forward to Kup's answer. 

"Told them they could roll with the 'Cons if they didn't settle down." Kup cracked his knuckle joints in a very obvious display of power. "Prowl's just mad he wasn't told about it first, I bet. And Mirage is just bein' a snob." 

Optimus felt himself smile. 

"I'm kinda surprised to hear you talkin' so honestly about your experience. Sounds like torture." 

"It was. But no one knows anything else about the procedure. Either the Priests help and that's what happens, or the Matrix does it itself and it's messier. I don't exactly know if there's another way." Optimus said sadly, then felt hands on his. 

"I'm sorry you went through that alone." Kup said, popping out the cy-gar he always held in his mouth. "Does it still hurt you?"

Optimus glanced down at his chassis. "Sometimes." 

"You don't have to bear something like that alone. You never did." Kup said, resting his other hand on Optimus' chassis. He understood what Kup was offering and shook his head, but placed a hand over Kup's.

"I couldn't. Trust me, you don't want to know. But I appreciate the offer. Another time, my friend but not now." Optimus said gently. 

"The offer's there if you ever want it." Kup said, and clapped Optimus' arm. "They're ready for you now, if you've got more to say." 

Optimus was ever so grateful for this Wrecker's involvement just then. "One more thing. And then we can disperse for the night. 

"It's a big deal, Optimus." Kup said. "You havin' a spark twin? That's like Megatron havin' offspring, or Starscream being philanthropist. They won't look at you the same again." 

Optimus' sigh was long and pained. "It had to be done, Kup. Especially now since now that we know that Orion Pax is alive. One day they will understand."

***

The meeting room in the bunker was indeed quieter. All Autobots were in their seats and there were cups of energon in each hand. Whoever thought to stock this missile bunker with low-grade perhaps should be thanked, as long as the Autobots were quieter now. Optimus took his place at the front of the meeting room. Now was the time to speak plainly. 

"I am sorry for the commotion, and for not advising my closest lieutenants that this was a possibility. For millennia we had not seen or heard of any proof that Orion Pax was alive until now. As such, he is with us now and as always, we Autobots require information. Pax is most likely able to provide this information, but as he is not warrior class, our methods of extraction must reflect this."

"Interrogation." Jazz clarified. 

"Perhaps softer than that." Mirage added. "Conversation. We're going to sweet-talk Orion Pax? That will never go anywhere, Optimus." 

Optimus held up his hand in a request for silence. "You are both correct. Considering Orion's condition when we first brought him here, he was grievously injured. Our first order of business is to treat our guest's injuries and nurse him back to health. I want to make it clear; he is not warrior class and we do not know the extent of his involvement with the war. For all we know, he may have been held prisoner by Megatron just as surely as he is now being held by us."

"You must have missed the tabloids of the day, Optimus. Orion was -not- Megatron's prisoner." Prowl said, before Jazz elbowed him sharply. 

Optimus' optics settled on his strategist's faceplate, narrowed in quiet fury. "Make your point, Prowl." 

"You two were lovers. Isn't that why you two stormed the Senate? Cross-faction coupling was the purview of Councillors and Senators of the day, you and 'then Megatronus' would have never been allowed to form a bond."

Optimus was a patient mech when it came to dealing with crowds, but every once in a while, an Autobot hit him where it stung. "Are you calling my loyatly into question?" 

"Not your loyalty. Just your sympathies." 

"Hey." Ironhide snapped, getting up from his seat. His cup of low-grade went clattering to the ground. "In case you've forgotten, you're talking to our Prime like that, and he don't appreciate the accusations none too much. Him choosing not to -torture- an unarmed, civilian Decepticon is based on the fact that this guy doesn't have a fair shot, and he didn't even have a fair shot when he was aboard the Nemesis.   
-That's- the point Optimus is making. So don't call into question his 'loyalty' or his 'sympathy.' You got a problem with the way he's actin,' just remember he's actin' like a Prime. OUR Prime, and when we 'conversate' with Orion Pax we're probably gonna see how it's different from 'Cons." 

"I agree." Ratchet said, immediately backing Ironhide. "For all we know, Orion might thank us for intercepting. If he's been near to Megatron for the entirety of the war, he's a wealth of information. He may not have a lot of information on Megatron, but by now he would know the Nemesis' layout intimately, maybe even battle formations."

"Those are all valid reasons." Optimus said, but his optics were still wary as they were on Prowl's face. His strategist maintained optic-contact with him, the stare down heavy with emotion. "Or do you have another suggestion, Prowl?" 

Prowl quirked an optic ridge. "Well I wouldn't want to insult your sympathies." 

"Prowl!" Kup roared, slamming his hand on the table. "You petulant sparkling, just spit it out." 

"Kill him." 

Shocked silence fell over the Autobots. 

Optimus' anger boiled over. "Are you mad?" 

"Kill him, Optimus. Kill him before this brilliant, senior level Archivist sends a stress beacon out to Megatron, who's surely looking for him. It doesn't matter what information he might contain, if we're not going -extract- the information from him then he's of no use to us. And us keeping him here can only bring us harm if Megatron finds out. He's a Warlord, but only to the strong, mean Decepticons. His forces made entirely of grunt units follow Orion Pax's direction with utmost fervor."

"Prowl." Optimus said. 

"By their sheer numbers they can compel Megatron into action if he doesn't feel it's necessary to retrieve his Archivist. Megatron likes having a lot of Decepticons to lead, he can be persuaded into action." 

"You are dismissed." Optimus growled. 

"So if we're not going to retrieve information from your spark-twin we should put him out of his misery and kill him. Gently if you must but kill him nonetheless." Prowl shot in. 

"DISMISSED!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: ;dslkafjewoirjasldkj

  
Killswitch, pt 7  
Major AU

"What is it, Prowl." Optimus Prime said. He was outside the missile bunker now, having found it stifling earlier. He tended to do this often enough; when things reached a head and he made a final decision that didn't sit well with the others, he left them to work out their own issues. It was his way of saying that his decision was final, and they'd better get used to it.

"You should have told me first." The Prime's strategist said, coming to a halt just behind Optimus.

"And what would you have suggested?" Optimus asked, fairly certain he wouldn't like the answer then or now.

"Considering the sensitive nature of his origins, I would have advised utmost secrecy. I would have ordered Ratchet to keep him unconscious while Chromedome extracted pertinent details from his core processor."

"And then?" Optimus asked tightly, anger giving a bite to his voice.

Prowl shrugged. "At that point you could have done whatever you wanted. Leave him back at the mine site, or wake him up and try to make him one of us, or offer an exchange to Megatron. The procedure wouldn't be detectable, not unless they have a mnemosurgeon onboard as we do." The strategist peered closely at Optimus. "You missed a golden opportunity to tip the scales in our favour, Optimus. How do you suppose I rectify that cost?"

"Considering the 'sensitive nature' of the situation at hand, it was not your decision to make." Optimus said flatly. "I am from his spark, and it is an anomaly that the both of us exist in this universe. As we are a part of each other, I cannot allow him to return to the Decepticons without first knowing if he will be relatively safe. Also, as you have pointed out, I must know the security risks in allowing what you termed, my spark twin, to leave the Autobots. To guarantee my safety and his, he must undergo a series of medical procedures to know if we truly share split sparks. And for these procedures, he must freely give his consent."

Prowl let out a long sigh, and came to stand beside Optimus. Floodlights lit the cliffside and stars dotted the sky. "I can't find fault with that line of reasoning." He said finally. "But the other Autobots... was it really their business to know?"

Optimus Prime thought on it a moment. "On one hand I understand why you would want to keep it quiet. On the other, someone would have found out sooner or later. There is a very obvious resemblance."

Even if Prowl wanted to, not even he could change Optimus' mind once he made something an order. All his calculations going forward would reflect Optimus' decision. The strategist's silence was his way of conceding the discussion.

"I don't plan to treat him like a prisoner, Prowl." Optimus said. "Is that clear?"

"You're going to let him run around unchecked?" Prowl questioned.

"Not unchecked." Optimus' voice was steady. "Unrestrained. But not unchecked."

***

Orion Pax awoke in bursts of consciousness. He'd never slept well aboard the Nemesis unless he'd scanned around and inside his quarters for another presence, before sealing himself in. As he'd found out, he could never be sure if some other officer wasn't gunning for him. The first time he woke, some Autobot was looking down at him. A tiny thing. Blue plating with pink accents here and there. He was woozy then, and confused and had absolutely no idea why he would be lying in the dirt amidst a ruined, smoking valley.

The second time he awoke, he socked the Autobot medic in the face with his knee-joint, and tried to scramble off the medical table. He made it to the floor, but to his horror, he was numb below the waist. Bits of his legs clattered to the ground beside him and he realized with a dull shock what the medic had been re-wiring his legs and had detached them as well. He was promptly put under again.

The third time Orion woke, he simply lay there, scared to death that maybe none of his limbs were attached this time. He gave his legs and arms a reflexive jerk, felt the familiar tug of his own limbs, properly attached and functioning. In a smooth motion, Orion swung his legs over the berth and took stock of the room he was in.

He was still hazy from the medication, but slowly in the calmness of the darkened room, his memories clicked back into place like puzzle pieces. Orion remembered the fight with Airachnid in which she'd badly injured him by poisoning his protoform and shearing pieces off his exoskeletal plating. He remembered rigging the cargo bay door panel so that the toxic mix of hydraulic fluids and acid woudl cause an explosion, thereby alerting the ground troops that he was in danger. The resulting explosion knocked him out as he was thrown from the Nemesis. He remembered laying unconscious in the dirt for some time. He remembered hearing the high-pitched scream of seeker's turbines, a hail of laser fire, the Nemesis rising into the sky and the sudden, blinding white flash of light that simply erased everything in his meagre existence, like the all consuming hand of Primus.

And now he was here, locked away in some unmarked room. A quiver of fear ran down Orion's backstrut as he remembered Megatron's flat refusal to rescue one his own generals when they were taken away.

_'If Breakdown allowed himself to be captured by those smaller than him, weaker than him, then he deserves whatever fate awaits him.'_

How did the Decepticons recover him? Starscream had disobeyed orders and sent in his own strike team to assist. No one had ever told Megatron that the Autobot wrecker had assisted in his rescue. As far as anyone knew, Breakdown had fought his way out.

Would that be the case with Orion now?

The Archivist's thoughts were interrupted by a soft, tonal ping coming from the black panel next to a concrete sliding door. A single white light pulsed in time with the sound. Orion got up from the berth on less than steady legs and approached the touchscreen. He traced its shape with the tips of his fingers, looking for bolts or sockets to manipulate, but it was flush with the concrete wall, and very secure. Buttons with leads and input wires carrying electricity could be manipulated, but touchscreens were far trickier. He tapped the light first, and found that it wasn't a button. He tapped the screen with his fingers, and the screen lightened.

The visage of Optimus Prime gazed back at him.

"Orion Pax, welcome to the Autobot Base of Operations. You are here because one of my soldiers found you after an energon mine explosion. You were critically injured and unconscious. As such, we were not able to treat your injuries in the field. Normally, I would leave it to Megatron to collect his injured warriors. As you are not warrior class, I made the decision to bring you back to our base for medical treatment. Myself and my Autobots have no qualms with you, provided you are professional in our discourse.

During your preliminary exam, my medic noticed severe anomalies within your spark chamber. At that point, we were keeping you under sedation to complete your repairs. The kinds of tests needed to repair your spark would require you to be conscious and for you to freely give your consent to those kinds of tests and repairs."

Optimus paused, waiting for Orion's answer. But the Archivist merely cocked his head to the side, clearly listening, but working out something in his own processor. "You're very generous, Lord Prime. I can only assume such repairs will take vast resources, and that you must gain something from me to offset the cost of those repairs."

"Yes." Optimus agreed. "We do not have to discuss them now, as I've been informed you've only just regained consciousness."

It was a bizarre experience to be talking to Optimus Prime. The voice was basically the same except that Optimus' voice was deeper and more gravelly, where Orion's with smoother, and higher. Orion really had no idea how to approach this situation. Also, Orion's existence was a coveted one, with not many Decepticons knowing about his history with Megatron save for his Warlord's trusted few. He'd never actively participated in any of the fighting or even seen what a battle plan looked like. His role had been very, very simple. As such... he had very little to negotiate with. And if the Autobot Prime knew that, would he still receive such courtesy?

"You say because I am not warrior class that you didn't leave me for Megatron to find me? What makes you think he wouldn't have looked for me?" Orion asked.

Through the touchscreen, Optimus' gaze was steady and patient. "Because you have been unconscious for 12 earth days, and in that time Megatron has not once demanded answers from us on your whereabouts."

Orion was no actor, so the hurt and insult registered on his faceplate, as plain as any Cybertronian with optics could see the light. There could be any number of reasons for that, Orion told himself. He could simply not know that Orion was being kept in a shielded Autobot base, or he could be hunting Airachnid. Or Optimus Prime could simply be lying. But some insidious thought in his spark whispered banalities, _'...then he deserves whatever fate awaits him...'_

"Does that bother you, Orion?"

The Archivist huffed at the screen, fists clenched. "If I am of no worth to Megatron, as he's so blatantly demonstrated, what could I possibly have to offer you?"

"You will be offered amnesty in exchange for information about current Decepticon tactics that will bring about the end of the war." Optimus answered.

Orion gaped at the screen. "You think Megatron's Archivist could provide that information?"

Optimus' optics narrowed. "I _know_ he could."

The Decepticon bit back a nasty reply, his processor running hot with clashing thoughts. Megatron hadn't looked for him? Hadn't sent out scouts or even demanded answers from the Autobots on his whereabouts? Not that Orion could know, being locked away and unconscious for that length of time. What was the liklihood that Megatron was out there looking for him? And what could Orion do if Megatron wasn't?

"Orion..." Optimus' voice was thoughtful, gentle even. "I want to make it clear that I do not wish to imprison you or interrogate you. I wish for a peaceful negotiation that satisfies both of our needs. You need not fear us, and you need not fear Megatron. You are free to make your choices. All I ask in return is that you give us Autobots a fair chance. Please think on it, some."

Optimus hit all the critical points with his last request. Orion felt caught in a whirlwind of ugly thoughts. He was feeling angry at Megatron, betrayed by the grunt unit he'd nurtured so meticulously through-out the years. Why did he awaken in an Autobot base that was not torn down by Decepticon hands? What should he do? Optimus Prime was making it sound like this was some great chance to redeem himself. But redeem himself to whom? The Autobots his Lord had fought against since the war began? Hah. Orion didn't think so.

The Archivist straightened himself, red optics bright with emotion, though Optimus couldn't tell if it was the strength of resolve or white hot anger. When Orion spoke, he was steady and focused. He crooked a finger at the screen. "Let's talk, Autobot."

***

"That went well, all things considered." Jazz said after the screen went dark. Beside him, Prowl was less than impressed, but remained silent. On the other side of the table sat Ratchet, Bumblebee and Mirage.

"So he submits to a spark exam on the pretense that there's some damage, and you get test results to compare your own spark signal to. Not bad." Mirage commented.

"Have we cleared the area?" Optimus asked. At his side, Bumblebee chirred an affirmation. "Good. I will attend to our guest. Jazz and Prowl, I will leave the running of the base in your hands. While we are in the area, I would appreciate if you keep all other personnel occupied until I determine Orion's willingness to co-operate with our request. Ratchet, please follow me."

The Autobot medic glanced at Optimus and nodded, rising from the seat.

They walked down a mostly empty corridor, a few Autobots crossing their path with different items in tow. It wasn't completely private, so Optimus relied on private comms for the moment. ::Does any of this seem strange to you?::

Ratchet smiled for probably the first time that day. ::You have a habit of asking obvious questions, Optimus.:: He commed back. ::I am concerned, certainly. Never mind Orion's ties to you, but his ties to Megatron... We could invite a grievous retaliation, keeping him here. I support your decision to protect him. It's the same as if we'd recovered a former Autobot forced to work with Decepticons, or a Decepticon asking to be part of the Autobots. But you must be certain you aren't misreading his intentions. My concern is that Orion is far more important to Megatron than the current situation suggests. As such, he is dangerous. You can't look at his behaviour as any indication of his honesty. Not until you learn how to decipher him.::

Optimus quirked an optic ridge at Ratchet. ::It concerns me that you are all so threatened by him.::

::Until we know the details of this exchange, this is the situation we are up against. Be careful, Optimus. No merging with him, via hardline or spark; even if he seems to be in distress. I'll be the one to judge if he requires it or not.::

::I am aware, Ratchet.:: Optimus said.

::Do you need me to have a look at him or should we wait until he requests it?:: Ratchet queried.

::A preliminary exam should do, for the time being.::

When Optimus Prime and his medic arrived at Orion's holding quarters, the Prime admitted to himself the he was morbidly curious about this Decepticon. Words like 'spark twin' and 'other half' rattled around in his processor for a moment, before he readied his nerves. Despite the situation, he had to be the one decide if Orion Pax was too much of a threat to keep around, and what possible dangers he himself could face if Orion was ever to be released.

With some trepidation, Optimus Prime entered the holding quarters to face down his other half.

***

Orion Pax was small by Cybertronian standards. He was roughly the same height as Ratchet, but with much less bulk. When Optimus thought of a comparison, Orion's build seemed similar to Arcee, what with all her smooth lines and narrow torso. His colours were a reflection of the faction he served. He was mostly silver, accented black with the purple insignia sealed neatly over his spark chamber. Three tilted lines splayed out from the faction symbol's sides. That design was used exclusively for Decepticons who had served Megatron personally for the longest time.

Orion Pax sat on a single-bot chair in the middle of the room, legs and arms crossed in a defensive fashion. His red eyes were narrowed with displeasure, first settling on Optimus Prime's faceplate, then Ratchet's. They strode forward, slowly but confidently, as if confronting one's spark-twin was a normal occurence.

Ratchet knelt before Orion Pax, well within kicking range, Optimus realized, and a panel on his forearm opened up with attachment cables hanging out. "Are you in any pain." Ratchet said the words, rather than asked him, as if whatever answer Orion could have didn't mean a thing to him.

"Frag you." Orion answered as Ratchet knelt down in front of him. The medic kept his actions purely business like while he attached a pin to Orion's chestplate and connected it to the screen on his forearm. Orion Pax stared at him the entire time. The silence seemed to go on forever. Whatever the two of them were thinking at each other, it was tight with tension.

"He's fine." Ratchet said, finally meeting Orion's gaze coldly and getting to his feet. He packed his tools away and Optimus noticed the way Ratchet's plating seemed to be tighther around him. He was hunched forward slightly, fists clenched. "Please call if you require my assistance." Ratchet said as he stalked out of the room.

Orion Pax watched him go, a dangerous gleam in his optics. Optimus nodded and gave a thank you to Ratchet's back, pretty much. He was now alone with his guest.

"You seem to have upset my medic. Why?"

"I find it crucial to dispense with the pleasantries and get down to business. I'm sure my existence is something of a sore spot for him. After all, he and I were engaged, once upon a time." Orion answered casually.

Optimus Prime searched his memory for such information. He knew that upon becoming a Prime, he still had civilian duties to fulfill, his marriage to Ratchet being the most important to him on a personal level. "I remember that much. Why should you being alive and well upset him?"

"Do you not remember?" Orion asked. Optimus Prime maintained his silence, his way of encouraging Orion to keep talking. "In those days, marriages were the purview of the Senators and current castes. I could bond to someone of a higher station to me, but not lower. It's how the integrity of the Data caste was maintained. Medics were highly prized, and were allowed to bond with lower caste members if they chose, thus elevating caste standing. And Ratchet, my colleague, had always had his optic on me.   
I was being cajoled into an arrangement with him, with very little say in the matter."

Optimus was stunned. "I do not know that Ratchet would ever do such a thing."

Orion made a noise of disgust. "You do not remember as I do. Ratchet was a promising medic in those days, very self absorbed and proud. His client base was made up almost entirely of rich benefactors, a few of whom had also been my direct supervisors. It got to the point where I had to be careful what I signed, in case my signature ended up on a marriage certificate.

"Ratchet would never..."

"If you have a problem with any thing I say to you thus far, it is because you are bothered by the truth. Not because I am a liar." Orion said flatly.

Optimus wasn't sure what to think of that admission, but deep down, he believed he knew Orion about as well as he knew himself and his closest officers. He instinctively believed Orion, though it hurt him to do so. "In this matter, I suppose I must take your word, then." Optimus said glancing over his shoulder toward the closed door. "I remember very little of what it was like to be you."

"Those memories are with me, I assume." Orion replied. "You could never guess what it's like to be an archivist, as I could never guess what it's like to be a Prime. Our personality matrices are essentially the same, yet we have wound up on opposite factions. How interesting." Orion said.

Something in Orion's frame seemed to relax in Optimus' presence, as though he'd accepted something. "Playing games truly wouldnt' do either of us any favours. I think we just understand each other too well, so I will talk honestly." Orion Pax laid his hand across the faction symbol adorning his chest. "You know the symbology behind this. You know that the day Megatron recovered me I was sworn to him for the rest of my life. As such, I will not assist you in maneuvers that would bring harm to him. Whatever you do in order to defend yourself and your Autobots I understand. But I will accept death before betraying my Lord."

Honour and nobility were hard, hard flags to tote. It required painful endurance and brutal honesty. It was easy to fall into the ego trap of believing one to be on moral high ground, but the reality is that having such integrity often went against one's base desires. To be honourable and noble meant one had to do something that was exceedingly difficult. Optimus Prime was no stranger to the kind of fanatical worship and strict adherance to codes of honour that he himself had found in many Decepticons.

"I agree that subterfuge is a waste of our time. But by your admission, you are also saying that there is nothing you will assist the Autobots with, as any assistance that benefits us can only be used to threaten the Decepticons." Optimus pried.

"Hm. That's a bit strict for the moment, but let's assume I completely agree."

"Then we should discuss other outcomes. I will not ask you to betray the Decepticons. In exchange for that favour, do not harm any inhabitants of this planet you come across, do not seek intel from anyone, and do not harm my soldiers. Can we agree on that first point?"

Orion thought it over a moment, his red optics narrowed as he considered. "I retain the right to defend myself as I see fit. Violently, if necessary."

"My Autobots know not to attack an unarmed opponent."

"Are the Wreckers considered Autobots?" Orion asked.

"Of course." Optimus said, slightly miffed at the idea that such a question could be posed.

"Then perhaps it would do you well to make that clear to your Wreckers and any other special sub-factions within the Autobots. Not all of your soldiers are obedient turbo-dogs when you are away. I have been witness to more than a few of their underhanded methods. And yes, that does include shooting an unarmed opponent." Orion said.

"Can you provide proof of this?" Optimus asked, concern creating an edge in his voice.

"Not without access to my records or..." A considering look, "unfettered access to yours."

"No."

"Then I suppose it's settled." Orion sat back with a sigh.

So much for not playing games, Optimus thought wryly. "To my knowledge and through my efforts, my Autobots have acted according to the standards set forth by Autobot law."

"Autobot law was only ever exclusive to 'Autobots,' remember?"

"The laws and standards we hold ourselves to include all Cybertronians." Optimus Prime stated. Rather than feeling attacked or tired, he was oddly invigorated over the exchange. "As I have said, you are protected within our base, provided you do not act out."

"I will not harm anyone on your side, Optimus Prime. All I ask for is that you recognize that anything I do here was to protect myself from your Autobots. As -I- have said, not all your Autobots hold as tightly to those laws." Orion answered.

Orion was beginning to feel as though he'd entered into some kind of balancing act. Or a strategy game that required very careful maneuvering. Optimus Prime felt it too; it was in their similar stares, their considering silences, their unwillingness to be the one to push forward. They could be here all day.   
The Archivist looked away suddenly, unable to contain the bubble of laughter that came from his processor. Optimus looked confused.

"Alright." Orion sighed. "I trust your Autobots not to harm me, but you know what's coming if they do."

"Understood." Optimus answered. "I will take any threat to your sense of safety seriously." Which was as good as Orion could get, and he nodded. Not exactly -permission- to defend himself, but an -understanding- though Orion knew that if he ever did harm a soldier under the Prime's command, he'd have to have stacks and stacks of evidence proving it. If he ever got out of here he could probably manage that.

"Do you wish to discuss the limitations in what you will provide?" Optimus seemed eager to move on.

"I won't sleep with anyone." Orion stated, and refrained from drawing back at the anger that glittered in Optimus' optics.

"You seem determined to make me doubt my soldiers' integrity." Optimus said. "But I respect that this is a concern to you. No one will harm you during your stay." He repeated.

Orion felt the awkwardness of the silence even as he mulled over the details. "I can provide you ideal sites to mine for energon. Places too small for the Decepticons to bother with. Fuel only."

"Agreed."

"There are also environmental clues that indicate many lesser known artifacts from the Ancients. I will provide them to you. Strictly for educational puproses, of course." Orion said.

"Of course." Optimus replied.

"That's all I can think of right now." Orion admitted.

"Would you be comfortable providing your opinion on certain earth terrains?" Optimus asked.

"I am a little confused as to why that would matter to you. Earth terrain is highly variable." Orion said cautiously.

"I would only ask that you advise if it would make a good place to store our acquisitions."

Orion's processor worked. "Are you suggesting... an actual place to hide your wares that is not within the base? I wouldn't recommend that at all, unless of course, you're baiting a trap. As you are well aware, cannot provide on opinion on that."

Let it never be said that Orion was 'dull' in any way. "Your Decepticon instincts become you." Optimus complimented, careful to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"I suppose we shall have to play it by ear, as they say." Orion said.

"Very well." Optimus concluded their discussion. "Negotiations aside, there is one more thing. There is the matter of your spark exam. Ratchet's preliminary results indicated you are well for the time being, but there is a risk that as time progresses, your spark will begin to show signs of distress. A more in-depth exam would be beneficial."

"Your Autobot instincts become you." Orion retorted. "Please, Optimus. I know Ratchet. Upset as he was with me, he's not the type to leave a patient ignorant of the true risks associated with his condition. If he thought it was necessary to have that test, he'd have told me so before he walked out of here, sore or not." Orion traced his fingers over his Decepticon insignia, the gesture idle and thoughtful. "Perhaps, for a good long look at my spark, we will have to negotiate the biggest term of all; my right as a sentient being to walk _the Pit_ out of here."

Behind his battle mask, Optimus was smiling. Not bad, Archivist. Not bad at all. But the words that came from Optimus were less congratulatory than his thoughts. "If it pleases you." He said, turning away from Orion Pax and heading for the door. "Please call us when you begin to experience spark distress, and do not wait. As you're well aware, spark-level damage is delicate work to repair."

Orion was stubbornly silent as he watched Optimus' back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alive and kicking, and still writing. First update of 2015 I think this is a sign that I'm meant to finish this fic. *FLEXES*

Killswitch, pt 8  
Major AU

The chanting below the decks never reached any louder than the hum of quantum engine blocks. It was a space carved out by the Eradicons and Vehicons and it did not interfere in anyway with the operations above, so the Warlord had allowed the grunt units to keep it. It was a massive room, heavily reinforced in structure to withstand impact damage and heavy fire. It served as an extra layer of protection for the Nemesis' cargo bay. It was an interesting space, set up like a low hanging stadium. Instead of seats, there were pads mounted to the ground where each flyer and grounder could kneel without blocking another's view or touching another. Occasionally there was contact, during the burials of friends, for example. Today there was no contact as the grunts prayed in unison without their Archivist leading them. 

'Til all are one  
With the Allspark  
From whence we sprung  
And to the Well we shall return.  
Never forgotten  
Only reborn, transformed  
Forever in the memory of Primus'

On and on the chanting went, the small box at the top of the altar chiming out a low, rhythmic tone that kept their collective volumes at a decent level and kept to the beat of their words, their syllables perfectly timed with the ancient language of the temple, once never taught to outsiders, now held onto by the lowest of Megatron's forces. Without Orion Pax, the grunt units pledged their allegiance and their very life force to their one true God. 

Megatron never questioned them, never forced them to serve the force of nature he chose to serve, the antithesis of Primus, the anti-spark generator, Unicron. He allowed them their freedoms in exchange for never questioning him and following him into the darkest, longest, most terrible wars their kind had ever endured. 

No one looked at Megatron or questioned his presence here, nor did his grunt force pause in their chanting. If they wondered about his motivations, his supposed lack of action, they did not show it in their work. They'd done their job, advising Megatron of the lost prisoner and the lost Archivist. And for 15 days there had been no orders except to collect energon and store it. 

But they knew best of all that Megatron was all action, flux and reaction and that he was at his most dangerous and most unpredictable when he was still. Indeed, his stillness was far more telling of his intentions than his battle plans. Whatever he was gearing up to, it would be terrible and there would most certainly be casualties. 

For their beloved Archivist, the grunt units were prepared to follow him into whatever possible Hell he lay in.

***

Dreadwing landed in the light of the full moon above a rocky cliff, covered in flora. The fauna had scattered, disturbed by the high shriek of turbines coming their way. The moonlight bathed the little valley with enough light that he didn't require his nightvision immediately. He checked his HUD again, honed in on the source of the beacon. There were cliffs on either side of him and ahead. The way was open and bare behind him, but he knew from the stories aboard the Nemesis and the briefings he received on the spider bot's behaviour; don't get cornered by Airachnid. Ever. 

She was somewhat obscured behind an outcropping of rock, but then pushed away from it with her forearms. "I sent for Breakdown." Airachnid said, not moving any closer. 

Dreadwing respectfully kept his distance. "I'm aware. He reported the signal to me immediately." He answered. In truth, Dreadwing believed he caught Breakdown trying to leave the Nemesis to rendezvous with Airachnid as she requested, and intercepted him. Dreadwing's optics narrowed. "Why did you leave the Nemesis." 

"I didn't leave." Airachnid rolled her optics. "I was blown off, by that insipid clerk." The spider-bot did a turn, showing her various injuries. At the very last moment all those days ago, she'd burrowed underground to avoid the exploding energon mine. It had taken her many days to dig herself out of the rubble and she'd lost two limbs in the process. 

"We have witness' accounts that you were killing the Vehicons and Eradicons for sport." Dreadwing said. 

Airachnid sneered. "So what if I had been? It hadn't been a problem until the clerk challenged me." 

"Challenged you? I also have it on good authority that Orion Pax was not the type to confront anyone." Dreadwing prompted. 

The spider-bot stepped further away from the outcrop, gliding forward toward the flyer in slow, measured steps, trying to garner favour without supplication. "Let's be clear on something. I didn't damage Megatron's property. Orion did, in his effort to escape me." 

"Why did you attack him in the first place? If you can provide justifiable cause, Megatron may revoke the execution order against you." 

"Because he -did- challenge me, although indirectly. So I sported with some of Megatron's canon-fodder and then put the little grunts out of their misery, so what?" Airachnid said flippantly. "There was nothing around to indicate Orion Pax was anything significant to Megatron. The way he scrounged around in the dirt with them, I had no idea he wasn't on the same level as them." 

Dreadwing whistled long and low, and shook his head as he looked away from Airachnid. "A costly oversight on your part, Airachnid. How could you not know about the two of them before the war?" 

Airachnid circled around the flyer, forelegs splaying out in a show of aggressive frustration. "I don't spend my time prying through personnel files like you do, Dreadwing. Besides, at the start of the war, I was trying to get off-world. Any politics that happened around that time, I firmly ignored. It hadn't been a problem until now." 

"Probable cause, Airachnid. Is that all you've got?" Dreadwing asked. 

"That, and a peace offering. Some few miles off I found some Insecticon warriors in stasis. Three of them." Airachind said, coming to a full stop not far away from Dreadwing. 

The flyer stared hard at Airachind. "Do you understand the situation this puts -me- in?" 

Airachnid smirked and stepped closer, closing the distance. The movement was slow and steady, an optic catching undulation of her torso, smooth and serpentine in a way that a larger mech just couldn't emulate. Dreadwing's breath hitched as he watched Airachnid's hands smooth over his chassis and then coast downward. It was an obvious invitation, and probably one he wouldn't ever receive from Airachnid again. She was powerful and sensual, cruel and darkly intelligent. To have her subservience, even for a brief moment... There was no hiding the way his plating responded to her touch, the way his spark leapt in its chamber, the way his sudden need coursed along his wires. Fierce arousal and self-preservation clashed in his processor.

Dreadwing side-stepped out of her reach, struggled to ignore the increase in temperature in his panels. 

"What?" Airachnid snapped. "Are you damaged from the neck down? Are you Megatron's intended too?" 

"I'm here on business. You're trying to negotiate your way back onto the Nemesis with a flimsy explanation for your actions and a promise. I'm putting my life at stake just seeing you, and a roll in the dirt is what you offer me? You'll get us both killed, Airachnid." Dreadwing stated. The spider bot growled low in her chassis, desperation and frustration making her forelegs sling back in an angry gesture. 

"Orion felt strongly about the grunt units." Dreadwing continued. "He personally guided them through mass and arranged their burials and reforging. They are the lowest rank but Orion never treated them as such. They are loyal to Megatron only because Orion himself was loyal to Megatron. Such loyalty to the cause is prized above all else. That is what your actions cost Megatron."

"You talk as if he's dead. Did you recover his remains?" 

Dreadwing went silent, his mouth sealing shut in a straight, firm line. 

"Ohhhh." Airachnid purred, her sharp denta flashing in a wide, predatory smile. "Well, now you know why I waited so long to contact you. Perhaps I was scouting the area myself in search of the Archivist. Perhaps I know where he is." the spider-bot teased. 

"Do not play games with me, Airachnid. Not in this matter. If Orion is alive, say so." 

"Take me to Megatron, first." Airachnid glared. 

"You're sure? All you have to tell him is that you found three Insecticon warriors in stasis and you were unaware of Megatron's attachment to Orion. If you do not have anything substantial when you see him... It could mean your life." Dreadwing felt it was only fair to give her warning, regarding Megatron's fierce unpredictability. 

"Worry about yourself, flyer." Airachnid leered. "I've got it covered."

***


End file.
